Trapped
by tasteofheaven
Summary: One look at those icey blue eyes, and it all makes sense. My mind flashes back to the note. "Had to go to practice." I turn back to the baseballs thrown about his apartment. The empty rooms and views from the windows. I guess this all explains why I'm staring back at the site of Jasper Whitlock. The Seattle, Trappers' very own major league starting pitcher.
1. Nosey Cameramen

**-Bella-**

"It's not that Bella, it's just that," he breaks his eyes away from me. Ice-blue circles look up, to my right side, and then down. His voice lowers, "Baseball comes first. Come on," His cold eyes come back up to meet mine, "you know that."

His words echo through my head.

_Baseball comes first._

_ And apparently I already knew that._

I shiver.

"So what am I," I spit at him with a grating tone. "Second?" I ask him. "Nope, thats probably Bear. Third? Most likely your team. Fourth," My voice picks up to almost a screech. "Now I'm sure that has to be your car!" Jasper's eyes scan above my head, probably for an awkward glance at his prying and surely listening teammates behind me.

But right now, I couldn't give two flying, shitting fucks about his team or anyone else.

"Bella," he whines in an exasperated tone.

"Oh, don't Bella me!" I throw back, stepping closer to him and pointing a firm finger to his even firmer chest. "Don't call me, don't look for me, don't send me any fucking flowers! We end here," I hiss my last words to him and stare into my favorite chilling eyes one last time, before turning towards my favorite team.

_One foot in front of the other._

The last thing I need right now is to trip on a baseball bat and fall head first onto my face.

_I'm sure Jasper wouldn't reach out to catch me this time._

"Bella!" Jasper's voice calls out, after only a step. His voice drops to just above a whisper, "Don't do this."

I freeze and blankly stare straight ahead for just a moment, before spinning back to his bitter eyes and telling him the first thing that comes to mind. With my most sarcastic tone and biggest smirk, I give Jasper the last words he'll ever hear from me. "You should probably get going, you have a game to start. Wouldn't want to cost your team a lose because of me, now would we. After all, I'm only second," My words cling to the fresh, clean, ballpark air for what seems like forever, before the dugout explodes in laughter and screams.

As I rush past the frantic players, headed towards my welcoming exit, I just barely catch someone yell in between fits of laughter, "They caught that on camera!"

* * *

**Worth continuing?**


	2. Nightmares and Cloudy Mornings

I watch him from my seat in the ballpark. His head is in his hands in almost defeat. He grabs a fistful of blonde hair and pulls. His pitching coach sits next to him, trying to calm him down, but I know it's no use.

And Jasper does too.

He looks up. And eyes like ice meet mine. Just the way he'd done countless times before. When he was behind the count, letting runs in, dropping balls- he always did the same thing to fix himself. To get that last strikeout or chuck a ball to third base and catch that player red handed on his way to his stealing base. He'd look up to me, ice blue eyes meeting their expectant brown ones. And he'd always find me, through thousands of screaming, crazed fans. He'd always find me, waiting there, biting my lips until I drew blood, bouncing my knees up and down faster than the baseballs flying around the park. 'My nervous reck' he'd always mouth to me, before pulling out his best curve ball for the last, third out and letting my breath free from the cell in my lungs. My head would fall in utter relief and he'd flash that lazy smile before jogging off to the dugout for his interviews and high fives.

Now with freezing eyes staring back to me, I froze. The word _caught_ flashed in my mind in bold letters and neon yellow writing.

I held my breath, waiting for his response. I didn't know what to expect. In that moment, I forgot everything I ever knew about Jasper. I forgot his favorite ice cream flavor, the way we met, or what he liked to do on his days off. I forgot the college he attended and the beautiful dismay he woke up in every morning. His honey golden hair wild in every direction, his eyes heavy from sleep, muscles flexing and stretching, waking up for a day filled with overwork.

And most importantly, I forget the way he looked when he was furious.

Slitted eyes, and set jaws quickly reminded me.

My eyes widened at Jasper's unrelenting, livid stare. I blink, dazed and about ready to bolt the fuck out of there. I grab my bag from its place on the chair, wiping treacherous tears away with sweaty palms. With a racing heart and unsteady feet I make my way through too many staring people. I keep my head down, careless with who's feet I step on or who I push into. I think someone puts a hand on my back and helps clear a crowd for me to walk through. I lean into it weak and breathless. I place a hand over my heart, willing it to stop beating so fast. Someone hands me a cup of water and I realize I've stopped walking. I'm pushed down onto a seat, only to get right back up and push furiously through the crowd with newly found strength. Desperate for the clearing, I run over trash and toes, shoving arms and limbs out of my way. And when I see that final opening, it's like the black clouds cleared and here came the lovely, glowing sun to save the day to warm the air and dry the wet ground. That patch of open stadium was my fucking sun and I was stupid happy to see it. Gasping with tears streaming down my bare face, I dart down the stairs towards the dancing, green word, and it's fucking unicorns and rainbows when I throw that holy door open underneath the glowing EXIT sign. I gulp all the air I can, catching my breath with clammy hands resting on my knees. I squeeze my eyes shut then open, hoping to get the spine-chilling image of Jasper out of my head.

But it's fucking pointless, because all I see is him. His flaxen air and raw eyes, perfect muscles, and my heart is breaking because what I really can't get out of the jail in my mind is _that_ look. Jasper was all anger and furious eyes and cold, cold emotions while he watched me.

It was a nightmare. That was the only way I could really describe it. It was sweaty pillows and sheets tangled around your feet, a rapid heartbeat and waking straight up on your bed in a start. And it was all meant for me. Every flared nostril, and strained blue vein, they were there for me.

And that was the part I yet to grasp. The frightening reality that the boiling anger Jasper held inside was now shooting pointed arrows in my direction.

He hated me.

_Jasper _hated _me_.

I jolt awake with a breathy, half gasp, half scream. My eyes fight the dark while I struggle to slow my breathing. I catch a racing tear and stare down at the wet patch it leaves on my fingertips. Im about to reach over to turn the lamp on from my bedside table when I feel a second drop land in my hand. I look down at it and see the dark dot, cradled in the palm of my sweaty hand.

A second, third drop suddenly appear and I realize what it is.

"Shit," I hiss in the quiet of my bedroom and clutch my bleeding nose with my free hand. I wrestle with my sheets and try to get out of bed without falling. Looking up at my ceiling, I make my way to the bathroom, careful not to crash into bookshelves and walls on the way.

I switch on lights and plop down on the toilet. Grabbing enough tissue paper to jam up my nose. I sigh, staring up at the bright bathroom ceiling. I do quick work of washing my hands and grabbing an extra roll of paper, before clicking off the light and heading back to my bedroom.

I pull on the string of my bedside lamp and check the flashing green numbers on my alarm clock. 5:17.

Trying to go back to sleep was pointless, so instead I reach for my phone and pull out a sweatshirt from my dresser. I take some fuzzy socks and put them on one at a time while hopping out of my bedroom with the other.

I don't bother with switching lights on around the apartment. The early morning soft gray light is already pouring through my sheer white curtains. I cross the length of my apartment heading to the patio's sliding doors. I pull them open and step out onto the cool Seattle air. I decide it's a good day to watch the sunrise.

Unlocking my phone, I sit in a patio chair pointed towards the approaching sun. I pull the tissues from my nose and wrinkle my nose in disgust at the bright red blood. I check to see if my nose is still bleeding and after a few seconds without a drop, I'm content enough to not stuff more shit up there.

Looking back at my phone, my heart drops when I see the amount of missed calls and text messages I have.

And it completely stops when I see who they're from.

_**Jazz-Attack:**_

_9:03pm._

_ Bella, I need to speak to you. Answer._

_**Jazz-Attack:**_

_9:12pm._

_ Bella, please just answer your fucking phone okay?_

_**Jazz-Attack:**_

_9:44pm._

_ Look, I know your angry and pissed and I understand that you probably don't want to even think of me right now, but we need to talk. _Actually_ talk. Like human fucking beings, and it'd be nice if I could get a word in too. So go ahead and throw on your big girl pants. Call me back when you get these._

My mind flashes to last night. The horrible fight I had with Jasper, in front of his entire team. I broke up with him.

_Oh, fuck. I can't believe I broke up with him._

I remember watching Jasper in the dug out. Hot and angry, ready to throw a Gatorade cooler across the god damn field. He was giving out too many hits. And walking to many players. He was lucky he even got out of the loaded bases during the fifth inning with only one run in allowed. He walked off the field angry and frustrated and knowing he was fucking up big time.

And then he looked up at me. I had stayed to watch him. He was going to pitch that day, so I stayed just like I always did. I didn't know it'd make him so...

So distracted.

He didn't break his stare with me. Not even when he climbed the three steps out of the dugout and onto to field, a bat in hand. My heart pounded with fear and anger and I just couldn't do it anymore. I had to leave, I grabbed my things and flared out of the ballpark with such speed I didn't even know I owned.

And then there was my nightmare last night. My brain took my feelings and fear and transformed it into something I didn't ever want to relive. Jasper's red face flashes through my mind.

I don't know what I'd do if Jasper was ever really _that _angry at me.

My mind converted him into a terrifying beast.

I shake my head to forget the nasty dream.

I stare down at the screen on my phone.

Before I can even think of what I'm doing I lean over the patio railing and let that shit drop.

I don't know what to do.

It's just past noon and this apartment is going to give me a fucking panic attack.

I throw my hair up into a high, messy ponytail and don't bother with makeup. I throw on some comfortable jeans and slip on shoes before grabbing my keys and coat in one swift move. I'm out the door and running down the two flights of stairs my one bedroom walk up so graciously came with within seconds. I'm just about to open the old, glass paneled door when I spot him.

Fucking Jasper was here.

I open the door with more force than necessary and set my face to something that I know won't look too pleasant.

He reaches down and picks up the remains of my phone lying thrown about the cement. "Is this yours?" He asks, amused.

"Yup."

"Well, I guess that explains why you never called."

"What do you want Jasper. I have somewhere to be."

"To talk to you."

"I don't have anything to say to you." I use a harsh tone and stare straight into those frightening eyes.

"Well I do." He bites back at me just as rough.

"I don't want to hear it." I turn on my heel and begin the decent to where ever the fuck I was going.

"Bella!" He calls after me. But I'm not fucking turning. I'm walking straight ahead with my crossed arms and eyes slitted.

But of course, you can't outrun a fucking athlete.

He catches up in almost two prompt seconds.

I sigh in irritation keeping my view parallel to the floor.

"Okay what the fuck happened last night?" He starts, "One minute your making me breakfast and kissing me good luck and then the next your yelling at me with your back to my fucking teammates! You realize, I'll never be able to live that shit down right?"

Like I give a fuck what his teammates torture him with. If anything it serves him right, I'll have to hear the stories later. "Hmm, your right. They even caught it on tape."

"Bella, I'm fucking serious. You cost me a game! In late August! Do you know how important wins are right now?" His voice booms and echoes through my empty street. I roll my eyes at his pathetic little baseball game.

"I sure do, Jasper. Comes first remember." I throw his filthy words at him, glad to get their metal, heavy taste out of my mouth.

"Can you just stop for a second!" He puts his firm hands on either side of my shoulders, turning me to him and glueing me onto the pavement.

"Don't touch me!" I swat his hands away. He drops one and pulls out my ponytail with the other. "I told you not to call me, not to look for me, and why do you always do that!" I snatch my hair tie from his hand and throw my hair up in its messy style again.

"I hate it when you put your hair up."

I roll my eyes at his pathetic excuse.

"Well don't worry, you'll probably never see it after today anyway."

"Do I even deserve an explanation as to why you stayed last night?"

That catches me off guard.

"I-I-I," I stutter, "I don't know?" I finish.

He throws his hands into his hair and pulls. "Do you know how confusing you are?

"You fucked everything up with those three little words and I'm not talking about 'I love you' because shit was skittles at the end of the fucking rainbow when you told me those. No, I'm talking about that little 'baseball comes first' stunt you pulled yesterday!" I take a break to insert a gloomy laugh. "You know, why are you even here? Did you forget the number to your dry cleaners or something? Huh? If I equal the importance of a buzzing fly atop the dog shit in your backyard, why bother even coming here to _talk_? This was stupid of you and you were stupid of me."

"Yeah you're probably right."

And that was it.

Talk over.

* * *

**Had this chapter saved on my laptop for about a year. Not sure why I never posted it. **

**Thought I'd revisit this story since the new baseball season has officially started and all.**


End file.
